A Brief History of the War of the Narrow Sea
by jlcleaumus
Summary: Hundreds of years after the events in question, the Archmaester of the Citadel has commissioned a brief overview describing the events leading up to and including the brief war between Pentos, Braavos, and the Iron Throne of Westeros. Third in series following "A War for Five Queens", etc.
1. Text I

_Third in a series starting with A War of Five Queens, followed by The Banker and the Red Wolf. This is different in style from the other two, written in the manner of a dryer, denser, historical tome, rather than the character POV's, at least for the first few chapters. I'd recommend reading the prior two entries before reading this one._

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**Submitted for review for the Archmaester**

It's less a matter of opinion than fact that whatever the capabilities of Sansa I Stark as a ruler, the establishment of _The Breadgiver's_ dynasty over Westeros, much less across the Narrow Sea, had its linchpin in her successful acquisition of Braavosi gold in the War of the Narrow Sea. Whether or not new Queen's hostilities with the Titan of Braavos stemmed from the Iron Bank's support of the pretender Aegon Blackfyre or predates it is a matter of speculation, but the consequences of the war saw the entire wealth of the Iron Bank and the east shifted to Westeros, towards the rebuilding of the Queen's realm after The Long Night and the failed Targaryen Restoration, though less charitable sources have claimed that Sansa I's main ambition was the completion of the excessive monument to her family's legacy in the form of Starkhall Castle.

Many partial to the old Braavosi regime still claim today that the Iron Bank's regents were unaware of the Blackfyre pretender's intentions to turn his eye west; instead, the ill timing of Queen Sansa's betrothal to Prince Beryn Dayne of Casterly Rock revealed to him a possible fracture within the myriad noble houses of Westeros, many of whom had much to gain through a union with the Crown, and Aegon Blackfyre thought this too valuable an opportunity to let slip. To be clear, the following discourse is not intended to serve as a history of the short-lived Kinsmen's Rebellion, though the ramifications from that war must be scrutinized in light of the events which followed. Nevertheless, it has always been the Crown's assertion that the Iron Bank's support of the Blackfyre pretender was made in bad faith, with full knowledge of Aegon's true intentions, in order to collect on the debts incurred by Cersei I Lannister in her war against Daenerys I Targaryen. However, an impartial observer must question the Iron Bank's wisdom in supporting such an obviously ill-fated invasion.

Nevertheless, history shows that the relationship between the Crown and the Iron Bank actually improved after the rebellion, with records indicating that at least one emissary of the Bank travelling at some point in its aftermath for an audience with Sansa I. The resumption of an active debt is evidence of the improved diplomacy across the Narrow Sea, regardless of past grudges, and the invitation to Westeros of the Sea Lord Markos Utaqoi to the completion of the Red Keep's restoration, one year after Queen Sansa's wedding, further points towards either a genuine reestablishment of diplomatic ties by the new regime (or it translates to an act of extreme bad faith on the part of the Queen or her advisors, knowing what was to come). It should be noted, however, the presence of other emissaries from the political units which once comprised the 'Free Cities of Essos', including Magister Illyrio Mopatis, a known Targaryen sympathizer who had once and indisputably harbored both surviving Targaryens in the years after Robert I Baratheon's assumption of the Westerosi throne.

While emissaries from cities like Tyrosh and Lys were present mostly for the nurturing of general diplomatic ties, and the presence of the Triarch Argos Maegyr of Volantis likely attributed to his personal ties with the Queen's former brother, Robb I Stark of the Northern Crown, Queen Sansa and her advisors held genuine grievances with the representatives of both Braavos and Pentos. Having harbored both Daenerys I Targaryen and the Blackfyre pretender in her lifetime, the Queen had good cause for concern regarding the newly established presence of the self-proclaimed Visaeron I Targaryen (claimant), who said himself to be the son of the deceased Viserys III Targaryen (claimant).

Like the last Blackfyre pretender, the validity of Visaeron's blood claims were highly dubious; at the time of the Queen Sansa's fifth year, most estimated the new Targaryen pretender to be a man of near seven and twenty years, which meant that Viserys III (claimant) would have been a boy of eight or nine at the time of his conception, an impossibility to be sure. And while the new pretender, a man of considerable charisma, is believed to have attracted some support by then amongst the smallfolk in Pentos, as well as Myr and Volantis, due to his professions of faith in R'hilor, singing songs promising to spread the fire god's religion across the seven kingdoms, it is unlikely a man of Magister Mopatis's station, having known actual surviving Targaryens, including Viserys III (claimant) himself, would have given any thought to the validity of Visaeron's claims initially. However, though Mopatis is reported to have fervently denied knowledge or support of the Targaryen pretender in Eddardton, it would not be above the magisters to use the man's claims, however dubious, for their own purposes. The only clear resolution we can reach is that whatever protestations of innocence from the Pentosi fell on deaf ears, as evidenced by their premature expulsion from the Eddardton even as their fellow emissaries from Essos remained for the full duration of the ceremonies, not to mention the decree from Sansa I restricting trade between Westeros and Pentos shortly afterwards.

While the exact amount is no longer available to catalogers due to the burning of the Bank's records during the following war, the accelerated pace of building in both Eddardton and across the realm, along with accounts of increased imports of grains and fruits from Essos, prove the resumption of some degree of a working debt between the Iron Throne and the Iron Bank. With the seeds of conflict more firmly sown between the Crown and Pentos, the real question is whether Queen Sansa, _The Savvy_, as many called her in the later years of her reign, premeditated the betrayal and attack of the Braavosi fleet during the upcoming war or, if we are to believe the Crown's account, the attack had been truly provoked by Braavosi actions during the battle and immediately afterwards.

Let us visit just the events in Pentos for the moment. While the possible motivations of the Magister Mopatis in supporting the original Targaryen restoration vary from simply financial or political spoils, to a general faith in the benefits of the old dynasty to the continent of Westeros, a stability dividend to his own profits resulting, or even stemming from a personal indulgence with the history of the fascinating yet mercurial family, it can be assumed that the magister evaluated the false Visaeron's claims on its own tangible merits, as measured by his potential to profit Illyrio himself, rather than any semblance of loyalty to the Targaryen family following the failed invasion of Daenerys I. It is possible, then, that the migration of another pretender, a self proclaimed bastard of Robert I Baratheon named Orrien, to the city, was encouraged by the Pentosi nobility as well. And while it was Visaeron who courted the smallfolk, the arguably more polished Orrien was able to gain more traction amongst the nobility of the city, up to and including several audiences with Prince Javis Rugarai himself. Most maesters and contemporaries agree on the status of Lord Gendry of Storm's End the only surviving offspring of Robert I following the purge of bastards by the bastard claimant, Joffrey I (Hill); certainly there are no records of any acknowledged bastard ever surfacing in the court of Robert I. Based on his familiarity with Westerosi customs and courtly behavior, most believe the pretender Orrien to be a bastard not of the former king, but likely a minor noble Westerosi house, one of the many exiles from the many wars in the aftermath of Robert I's death and Eddard Stark's execution.

While Mopatis's initial assessment of Sansa I is unknown, it is certain that, following their expulsion from Westeros, the influential merchant devoted his what remained of his life towards undermining her reign, viewing the two contending pretenders as possible means, while assessing both their capabilities. It is also likely that Mopatis or his agents worked behind the scenes to stir the brewing conflict between the two, hoping to see a stronger one emerge and prove himself viable for future use in fomenting troubles abroad. Regardless of cause, the streets of the cities saw an escalation of conflict between gangs emerging loyal to either pretender, the situation complicated in the sixth year of Sansa I's reign by the escape from Sunspear of Lord Robert "Robin" Arryn of the Vale, a prisoner of Prince Martyn Martell by orders of the Queen for his supposed involvement in the Kinsmen's Rebellion.

Though known to have been a weak and troubled child, the Robin Arryn who landed in Pentos proved to be a surprisingly charismatic figure, the two years of confinement in Dorne having seemingly emboldened, rather than broken the young man. Tall, gallant, and considered quite handsome by many of his contemporaries, the young man soon found himself a favorite of the princes and the magisters due not to his prowess with a sword, in which he was eclipsed easily by both pretenders, but by his gift for consorting and natural magnetism, not to mention the solidity of his blood, born from two of the Westerosi Great Houses and kin of their own Queen, compared to the two more questionable pretenders. And while both Targaryen and Baratheon factions in the city likely saw him as a threat, the very fact that the young Arryn had little to no blood claim to the Iron Throne itself (nor so it seems, any ambition towards kingship, rather than merely the restoration of his lordship of the Vale) made him an attractive ally for both parties.

It was after his confinement that the young Lord Arryn wed a bastard daughter of the late Doran Martell. As it was likely forced upon him by Prince Martyn himself, many said upon the Queen's direct orders, the marriage was not a happy one. With the newborn heir to the Vale, Petry Arryn, sent to Winterfell as a ward of King Jon I Stark of the North, Lord Robin made his escape guessing that, as harsh as his cousin the Queen could be, she was not likely to order the execution of a newborn babe, much less her own kin. (It was fortunate that she did not, considering that the young Petyr, born a year after the Queen's own firstborn, Prince Rickon, would come to later serve as Hand to the new king, but that is a subject to be raised for a different tome.) The point to be made is that, once in Pentos, the exiled lord did not take seriously his marriage, made under duress, eventually winning over the favor of Prince Javis enough to be betrothed to his own daughter, but not before bedding many of the well-bred ladies in the cities and fathering at least two acknowledged bastards.

The complete loss of favor from the nobles is the primary reason for the pretender Visaeron's first trip to Braavos, and though he left behind a fervent contingent of followers in Pentos, he hoped to augment them with the addition of more of the smallfolk in Braavos. Some point to this event as the birth, or least the resumption, of the tensions between the Braavos and the Crown, but records show that the Sea Lord ejected the Targaryen pretender immediately upon receiving a letter of protest from the Queen. But with the hilly lands on the Andali Coast lightly patrolled between the cities, it was here in which the pretender was able to foment the most dissent against the ruling oligarchy of both Free Cities, speaking against the greed and hypocrisy of the Iron Bank in enabling the slavers of Essos to the smallfolk of Braavos, and venting about the indulgent lifestyles of the Pentosi nobility to the south, especially with regard to many of the city's servants, who were slaves in all but name.

By the eighth year of the Queen's reign, the would be dragon king's rhetoric had stirred enough unrest in both cities to distress the nobilities of both. While the smallfolk in Braavos clamored for war against Pentos, to end their southern neighbor's slave holding practices for good, the Pentosi streets were beset by near daily riots, and the magisters all spoke in fear of a '_servants_' revolution. Prince Javis's decision to rally the nobles to pursue and finally put down the Targaryen pretender was fiercely unpopular, but the Prince likely hoped that a quick campaign to cut off the dragon's head would put an end to the unrest. It was on the eve of embarking north when Illyrio Mopatis made his move, rallying a majority of his fellow magisters against the Prince. By sunrise, the Prince's head, along with those of his supporters as well as Orrien Baratheon, were displayed on the streets to the satisfaction of the city's populace, and the next morning saw the triumphant return of Visaeron I Targaryen (claimant), whom the new Prince Illyrio informally crowned in the city's great plaza.

While the title of Prince historically held less power than the combined might of the magisters historically in Pentos, it is clear that Illyrio intended to be less than a figurehead and more of a sole dictator in his role, buffeted by the smallfolk's support of Visaeron I (claimant). Whether power within his own city was his ultimate goal, or his appetite for a Targaryen Restoration, along with his own Westerosi ambitions, had been whetted by the surprising emergence of the pretender's strength, the new Prince had, by his actions, declared himself an open enemy of both the Iron Throne and, within a fortnight, Braavos and the Iron Bank which was funding it, though tensions had been simmering since his expulsion from Eddardton.

A curious survivor of the Mopatis purge was Lord Arryn, who, while he indulged with the Baratheon pretender endlessly at nights, the coup caused him to quickly disclaim his support for the Stag and stand newly converted to both the Targaryen claim, which his father the Lord Jon Arryn helped overthrow, as well as a convert to R'hilor the fire god. Clearly hoping to turn the attention of the city's populace away from the freedom of the 'servants', the new Prince issued forth an edict blaming both the corruption of the Iron Bank and the Westerosi Crown in suppressing the trade and commerce of all the Free Cities, keeping the smallfolk in poverty and forcing their dependency upon the nobility. While his rhetoric seems apparent to us today as a desperate move to hold on to his own wealth, it was here that the support of the popular Visaeron was critical in restoring the peace in Pentos, now wholly united under their newly populist Prince, whose proclamations were not entirely false, considering how the trade sanctions of Sansa I hurt both the smallfolk and merchant class alike in Pentos.

It is likely that Prince Illyrio never truly intended war with Braavos, only hoping that his harsh words would keep the peace in his city until the pretender could have been dealt with in his own way. Perhaps the Prince truly intended to sail to Westeros to attempt yet another Targaryen Restoration. Knowing his practical nature, this prospect is unlikely, though his retention of the Lord Arryn's services indicates this avenue not entirely closed to the Prince. There are whispers that the Prince sought to secretly enter negotiations with the Iron Bank to come to terms, either to seek their assistance in ridding Pentos of the pretender, or to gather additional funding to raise coin for a fleet to sail westwards, following in the footsteps of Daenerys I. The former course is more likely, and it is alleged that the Prince himself paid for the services of a faceless man, but though the assassination attempt left the pretender scarred on the face and hobbled on foot, its failure sealed his near mythical status with the smallfolk of the city. Having lost control of his own creation, Prince Illyrio now stood helpless as Visaeron rallied the city's men to arms, raiding north in Braavosi lands and even south in to Myrish territory in order to fund the creation of his own fleet.

So while it was probably never the intention of Prince Illyrio to unnecessarily antagonize either the Iron Throne or Braavos, the new hostilities reached a fever pitch by the ninth year of the Queen's reign, inevitably strengthening the relationship between the two would be enemies of Pentos. While the Iron Throne rebuilt and maintained its fleet at a regular pace in the aftermath of its own long wars of succession, the emergence of a new and viable Targaryen threat to the east accelerated the process, no doubt funded by an Iron Bank newly uneasy at the increasing instability of its southern neighbor. Old in age and growing increasingly infirm, all the Sea Lord Markos needed as an impetus for open war was a small match to light the wildfire leaking to his south. And light the flame it did, with the escape of another prisoner of the Iron Throne eastwards, and unlike her predecessor, the charming though lethargic Lord Robin, the arrival of Yara I Greyjoy (claimant) of the Iron Islands to Pentos portended Fire and Blood across both continents.

A fervent supporter of Daenerys I, the last surviving child of Balon Greyjoy had been living in exile in Sunflower Hall for her role in the War of Five Queens. Like Lord Arryn, an heir had been born to her, only to be sent away to be raised by her enemies. Born two years before her escape and father unknown, the future Lady Asha Greyjoy of the Iron Islands had been sent to Eddardton to be raised from birth as a ward of Queen Sansa herself. The escape of two of her prisoners, with no consequence to the hostages held by the Crown, betrayed a rare moment of weakness in her reign, but of more import to both Sansa I and the merchants of Braavos was the acquisition by the new Targaryen pretender of an experienced naval commander.

We can assume that Lady Yara was aware of the falseness of Visaeron's claim, having been a close associate of Daenerys I herself. We can also assume that her thirst for vengeance against Sansa I, along with her long held desire for the independence of the Iron Islands, led her to ignore the fact and throw her full weight behind the pretender. Before we proceed further, we should examine this pretender himself, whom records show nonexistent until near or immediately after the death of Daenerys I. A fluent, if not expert speaker of High Valyrian, contemporaries note that while his hair matched the silver blonde aspects of the famous House, its coarseness indicated the possible use of dye. Furthermore his eyes were blue grey rather than violet, and his skin a darker complexion than that of Daenerys I and Viserys III (claimant) themselves. While he claimed his mother was a lady of minor nobility in Pentos, most agree that he was actually born to nobility or the mercantile class originating in Myr or Braavos, a possible bastard raised in his father's household for long enough to have received an extensive education. Seemingly a well traveled man, it is possible that the so-called Visaeron came across Daenerys I, or even the man he claimed his father, at some point in his travels across the Free Cities, and some speculate he may have actually visited the Bay of Dragons during the time of Daenerys I's conquests. While not of the blood of Old Valyria himself, his eloquence, extensive knowledge of Targaryen lore, and impassioned speeches extolling the former Dragon Queen's causes led to many followers in the Free Cities, though not Westeros itself, even if not all of them may have truly believed in his blood claim.

Concerned about escalating tensions, Sansa I's last-effort peace summit amounted to a rare misstep for the Queen they called the Red Wolf. Inviting only Prince Illyrio and the aging Sea Lord Markos, she should not have been surprised by the guests who accompanied the Prince of Pentos to Eddardton. Perhaps Sansa I did expect their presence; met by a full contingent of her armies at shore, neither Visaeron I (claimant), Yara Greyjoy, nor Robin Arryn were allowed onto Westerosi soil while the peace summit proceeded more than half an hour's ride away at the former Targaryen Dragonpit.

If Illyrio wished to rid himself of his increasingly unruly contingents, this could have been his chance. Both the Queen and the Sea Lord demanded their immediate surrendering, the two Westerosi exiles to herself, and the Targaryen pretender to either her custody, or the Sea Lord's. This may have been acceptable to the Prince, but the Sea Lord's additional demands of the complete disbandment of the Pentosi fleet would have cost Illyrio what little support he had remaining across the Narrow Sea. Curiously, the status of the Pentosi 'servants' were raised by neither party, and while the Sea Lord likely wished to dampen any of the Targaryen pretender's causes with his terms, the subsequent reveal of this fact to the Braavosi population cost him dearly at a crucial moment of in the upcoming war.

The difficulties were further compounded by the need of three riders, one representing each camp, to relay the summit's correspondence to the three exiles aboard Prince Illyrio's ship throughout the day, only to return with the expected fervent rejections by the pretender and Lady Yara, much to the Prince's probable dismay. The lack of fruits from the meeting was predictable, but an unintended consequence was the further inflammation of Prince Illyrio's so-called court. Angered and indignant at their treatment by the Westerosi, as well as the Queen's demands, few expected Yara Greyjoy, her personal grudge with Sansa I still fresh ten years after the death of Daenerys I, to sail away immediately from Eddardton to fire the first arrows in the War of the Narrow Sea.


	2. Text II

**Submitted for review for the Archmaester**

It is unknown whether the preemptive attack launched by Yara Greyjoy had been premeditated and planned with Prince Illyrio's knowledge or participation, though it would be reasonable to assume that it was conducted with the knowledge of Visaeron I (claimant). Joined halfway across the Narrow Sea by the remainder of the Pentosi fleet, the captain left the Prince and pretender with only a small amount of ships to defend their own harbor, the Ironborn Queen claimant sailing north instead, catching and destroying most of the Braavosi fleet on its way back across the sea. Helped by the early morning mist, the ambush was nearly a complete victory, though it failed to capture the Sea Lord himself. Fleeing back to Eddardton, Markos pleaded before the Queen for aid and retribution in this new war which commenced far quicker than either one of them had anticipated days before at the Dragonpit.

Unprepared for the sight of Pentosi sails,the Braavosi were nevertheless able to summon forth an adequate defense, holding off the Pentosi below the Titan's feet while sending a separate fleet from the northern port to attack the Greyjoy fleet from the rear. Here is where Yara Greyjoy's experience came into play, taking advantage of a rare burst of a furious east wind to maneuver her ships expertly through the narrow strait as if it were her own waters in the Iron Islands, destroying much of Braavosi defenders to pass through the Titan while losing little of her own fleet. Thinking she was planning a raid into the city itself before escaping through the northern channel, her pursuers sailed under the Titan only to find themselves ambushed by the savvy captain who, with an unexpected and heady pivot of her ships, had now destroyed a substantial piece of the Braavosi fleet just three quick skirmishes.

Though she had lost a third of her own fleet in the three succeeding battles, the end goal of the Greyjoy captain had never been an occupation or raid of the city itself, but control over the might shipbuilding Arsenal standing between the Titan and Braavos proper. Considering the Pentosi fleet found themselves outnumbered by both the Braavosi fleet and Westerosi fleets separately, Yara clearly felt the shipbuilding facility held by Pentos's northern neighbor the most vital aspect to any successful war conducted against her two most powerful enemies. Quickly entrenching themselves upon the rocky island's beaches, the outnumbered battalion managed to resist skirmishers from both within the Arsenal as well as Braavosi reinforcements sent to drive out and destroy the invaders.

Much credit should be given to accomplishments of this valiant Pentosi army, comprised not of hardened soldiers or mercenary sellswords, but from among the very smallfolk captivated by Visaeron through the years, butchers and bakers and smiths fighting not for a king or lord, but their own class and religion. A daring breakthrough during the middle of a furious storm landed a small group of proselytizers into the heart of the city, where they proclaimed that their own Sea Lord Markos Utaqoi had betrayed the smallfolk of the city, siding with the merchant classes of both cities when he failed to press for the liberation of the 'servants' of Pentos at the Dragonpit summit. Considering the influence from Visaeron himself within the populace of Braavos, built over years of semi exile, similar riots which befell Pentos years before spread instantly through the city, leaving its leadership, whose own supreme Lord lay in hiding across the Narrow Sea, in a precarious position. For their champion they chose Tormo Fregar, a younger merchant whose loss to Markos in the last selection of Sea Lord many attributed to foul play in the form of bribery, extortion, or even dark magics.

While the new Sea Lord contestant was fully eager to take up the causes of his people, he found it difficult to control a populace now at war with both itself as well as an outside invader, many of whom sympathizing with the latter. On another dark and moonless night, a group of men, women, and children alike numbering in the thousands took up their torches and attacked the reserve ships docked in the northern port, wresting control of over fifty vessels, and setting fire to much of what remained. Sailing them towards the Titan, they surprised their own fellow Braavosi besieging the Greyjoy captain's own siege. Finding themselves nearly encircled, the Braavosi captain, whose name is lost to us through the ages, chose to break out of the city rather than continue a losing fight against his own people, sailing westward towards Eddardton to seek the Sea Lord Markos for further instructions.

As Fregar hesitated between conflicting advice regarding whether he should fight or back the foreign invader, Yara Greyjoy rallied her men, now doubled in size with the inclusion of the Braavosi sympathizers, for a furious assault against the Arsenal's defenses. The battle raged throughout the following day and into the night, and while the defenders held, the attackers had made great strides in capturing many of the strongholds in the outer docks. Sensing the situation in peril, Tormo finally proclaimed himself the undisputed new Sea Lord of Braavos and sailed to the island himself, where it is said that he clasped hands with the very invader besieging his city, then ordered the defenders of the Arsenal to surrender. The battle for the shipyard over, Tormo then pledged the support of Braavos behind the Targaryen pretender, in effect waging war against both the Iron Throne and his rival Markos, whom he now branded a traitor and enemy to the city.

The Targaryen and Greyjoy alliance finally had their Arsenal, though its ship building capabilities were reduced by more than half due to the damage the facility sustained during the course of the battle. Good news beckoned though, as word that Prince Illyrio had leveraged what remained of the magisters' combined wealth to hire a fleet from the Bay of Dragons, where the mercenary Daario Naharis pledged his support to the new Targaryen cause, sending a small amount of his Second Son's sellswords to accompany the fleet as it would gather smallfolk from Volantis, Tyrosh, and Myr on its way to the Narrow Sea to join the war.

It is here when we need to examine Queen Sansa's true intentions in light of her own conduct of the war. Some voices branded her indecisive in the aftermath, agreeing to back Markos's claim over the city but doing little to demonstrate her support, allowing what had been a small and outnumbered Targaryen-Greyjoy alliance to well in strength and numbers. However, there are many who believe that Sansa I had set her mind upon the acquisition of the Iron Bank's gold by the time of the meeting at the Dragonpit, and so withheld her own fleet so that Yara Greyjoy and the Braavosi themselves could destroy the naval capabilities of the city well before her own ships set sail across the Narrow Sea. The Queen's own statements after the war do ring true as well; most of her fleet were concentrated in the south in Dorne and the Arbor, and she had no practical choice but to await their arrival at Eddardton, rather than send her own ships out piecemeal while leaving her capital undefended by sea.

Even assuming the Wolf Queen delayed due to her malevolent intentions towards her supposed Braavosi allies, her position was more precarious than before, the specter of yet another Targaryen invasion looming, growing more powerful by the day by men and by ships. And while any subsequent Targaryen invasion with a foreign army was doomed to failure in Westeros, just the landed presence of another set of invaders would signal to the Queen's nobles her weakness and indecision, were her delay truly not a deceitful feint against the Braavosi. Adding further complication to the matters was the summoning of a company of mercenaries from Volantis by the Iron Bank, though few knew whether they would support the Utaqoi or Fregari faction once they arrived in Braavos.

Regardless of her motives, sensing finally the seriousness of the conflict's escalation, Sansa I instructed her Master of Ship, Prince Martyn Martell of Dorne, to lead the bulk of his gathered fleet to attack Pentos rather than Braavos, to Markos's consternation, though the Queen assured her that, left relatively defenseless, both the Targaryen pretender and the Prince would summon Yara Greyjoy immediately south to defend the city. It is told that upon receiving the raven, the Greyjoy captain spat and tore it up before returning to her chambers with her lover of the night, a young actress from the city. When she did leave half a fortnight later, having augmented her fleet's numbers with the Arsenal's help as much as she could, strong southern winds both slowed her progress while hastening the earlier than expected arrival of the Westerosi fleet, which quickly overwhelmed the remaining defenders and stormed the port, taking Pentos within half a day's battle. The Targaryen pretender, wounded in the battle, was executed by the Prince of Dorne himself in the Great Plaza, though not before delivering a possibly coerced confession that his father had been a minor stable keeper for one of the pleasure houses of Lys, his mother a pleasure worker there, his claims to the blood of Old Valyria all fiction.

Seeking to appease the smallfolk after executing their would be king, he banned the servitude practices of the nobility and ordered the additional execution of all the magisters save one, whom he appointed to keep the peace in the city. As for the Prince himself and Lord Arryn, he sent both back across the Narrow Sea to Eddardton, where, having served three Targaryens, pretenders or not, Illyrio Mopatis finally met his end before the Wolf Queen's court. A curious item to note, however, is the fate of Lord Robin, who frantically bent the knee upon his return to the Red Keep, confessing his crimes, repenting his devotion to R'hilor, and begging the Queen's mercy. Oddly enough, he received a stronger dose of it than most expected, sentenced to confinement in Highgarden under the supervision of Queen Margaery I Tyrell for the remainder of his life, though whispers that he was sharing the Queen's bed began within months of his arrival; some contemporaries of the southern court even claim the Flower Queen's youngest son Renly to have been the progeny of the former Lord of the Vale. Certainly the protestations of her lord husband, Arthur Hightower, that the child could not have been his, considering he had been sailing across the Narrow Sea at the time of his conception, raises legitimate questions about the child's parentage, though Lord Arryn is but one of many possibilities for the child's father.

Notwithstanding his possible involvement in the extended estrangement between Queen Margaery and her husband, the leniency of Lord Arryn's sentence has raised questions since the day it was issued, with many speculating upon his role in Pentos, and whether he had been following the Queen's orders his entire time abroad, and both supporters and detractors of Sansa I Stark point to Robin Arryn's fate as proof of her complicity in possibly fomenting not a small amount of the tensions which arose between Pentos and Braavos, though she could not be conceivably held responsible for either the unpredictable actions of the Targaryen pretender or Yara Greyjoy themselves.

With Pentos subjugated, Prince Martyn's fleet turned north, though they missed the Greyjoy fleet in a harsh storm two days after leaving Pentos. Arriving only to find the city already defeated and her Targaryen and Pentosi patrons dead or missing, she turned north again in pursuit of Prince Martyn, judging that he would now lay siege to the Braavos, now under the control of Tormo Fregar, who would continue to work against his predecessor and resist the Westerosi, who had been allies to Braavos a mere moon before. Indeed, the winds which once favored her in her initial siege of Braavos now favored her enemy, who arrived below the Titan a whole fortnight before her. Some accounts defend Yara's command, however, attributing her delay as a purposeful stalling tactic along the Andali coast, awaiting the arrival of the reinforcements summoned by the late Prince Illyrio. They never came, however, as unbeknownst to her, the masters of Volantis and Tyrosh, fearing a similar uproar amongst their own smallfolk, had effectively taken control of the ships as they took shelter in small harbors outside the cities, awaiting the arrival of the pretender's supporters, and it is widely believed that one or more of the Second Sons may have betrayed a pretender they likely did not know was already dead.

If she did dally along the coast, ignorant of the failure of her reinforcements, impatience likely drove Yara northwards, arriving unexpectedly at a city in an uneasy state of peace. Perhaps haunted with second thoughts about rebelling against his Sea Lord, or uncertain of his own abilities defending a city with a much depleted fleet and Arsenal, and much his own smallfolk acclaiming the Westerosi for their role in 'liberating' Pentos from their mercantile oppressors, Tormo welcomed the Dornish Prince into his city, and both kept together a fragile peace while they awaited the return of Markos Utaqoi, now sailing eastwards after having consolidated what remained of the ships loyal to him following the Greyjoy attacks.

Like the intentions of his Queen, the Prince's actions here bear scrutiny. Was this truly a good faith effort to maintain a peace with an indecisive Braavosi lord, or was this his way of scouting out and infiltrating a city his men would take during the so-called "The Night of the Great Betrayal", as many of the old Braavosi called it? Even if it was unintentional, evidence does point of a key familiarity with the city that night, when the smaller Westerosi army found themselves in perfect positions to take control of several of the city's key defensive points. But that lay still in the future, and both the Prince and Tormo anticipated Greyjoy to attack this time through the northern strait which had harassed her such during her last assault.

Rather than gamble her fleet upon one strait or another, understanding that the Braavosi could easily ferry their ships back and forth as needed, she instead divided evenly her fleet, blockading both harbors despite the impending arrival of Lord Markos. Perhaps she still anticipated the arrival of help from the south, but it was not just the Braavosi that arrived in force, but another Westerosi fleet led by the Queen's Master of War himself, Paxter Redwyne, who had joined with the Sea Lord in the middle of the Narrow Sea. Caught in the middle of two enemies, the Greyjoy captain ordered her northern ships to abandon their blockade, hoping to encircle her enemies, while she attempted to break out of the harbor below the Titan herself. In a battle witnessed by most of the city lasting well into the late afternoon, the Greyjoy captain battered her enemies brutally, but slowly succumbed to the inevitable due to her untenable position.

The fate of Yara Greyjoy remains a cornerstone for what was to come. By the time the northern portion of her ships arrived at the battle, her fleet was already decimated, and the Redwyne fleet, whom many accused of holding back while the Braavosi bore the brunt of the battle, moved forward to destroy what remained of what had been a briefly mighty Pentosi navy. The battle won, the Prince and many of his officers arrived triumphantly into the city, celebrating in the brothels immediately, as was the Dornish way, while Paxter Redwyne awaited soberly in his ships outside the harbor, mediating between the two conflicting Sea Lords, both aboard his ship, the Lord of the Arbor promising his neutrality in settling the Braavosi disputes.

As the bloody day turned to a bloody night, blood and wine proved a potently unhealthy mixture, with brawls breaking out between the Westerosi and Braavosi, though they had fought as one just earlier that day. Alerted to the fighting, it was Prince Martyn himself who ran to the streets and saw, as he claimed, an awful desecration of the body of Yara Greyjoy by Braavosi sailors, as the Prince said, 'unworthy of a trueborn Lady of Westeros.' Though accounts differ, the Prince claimed he was then beset himself by Braavosi assassins, an action he attributed to a conspiracy to destroy a docked Westerosi fleet that had become too powerful for the Braavosi to tolerate, especially considering their own depleted state. Accounts of who could mastermind such a conspiracy differ, considering the fact that both rival claimants to Sea Lord sat aboard a Westerosi ship at the time, though the Iron Bank would be a prime suspect were the Dornish Prince's claims to be believed.

As a fire broke out in the Great Hall of the Sea Lords, the Prince Martyn's men moved immediate to seize all the key junctures and hills of the city, massacring the half inebriated defenders. It's not known how or why Paxter Redwyne, seeing the same fire from the harbor, interpreted it as the same betrayal as his fellow member of the Queen's Small Council, but the Master of War immediately ordered the both Sea Lords bound and transported below deck, and his own ships to move forth and burn what remained of the mostly unmanned Braavosi fleet in the harbor. By dawn, the entire city, including the Iron Bank, lay fully under the control of Westerosi bannermen, relatively healthy and well-rested having not participated in the war until its last days. Accounts tell of the nobility and bankers alike being marched out, hands bound, many still wearing their sleeping garments, to Westerosi ships, alongside with endless wagons of gold by sunrise, while the Prince himself took temporary regency over the city.

A confused smallfolk saw the arrival of two battered and exhausted Sea Lords one day after, both confessing their own guilt in conspiring with the Iron Bank to betray their Westerosi allies. Pleading for peace from the populace following their confession, the two Sea Lords surrendered the sovereignty of the city to the Iron Throne, and it was announced by Paxter Redwyne that Queen Sansa I herself had been summoned to settle the peace. With the still impending arrival of the Volanene mercenaries hired by the Iron Bank, the aging Lord Commander took charge of the city's outer defenses, while the Prince held the streets and alleys himself, instituting a strict curfew and restricting all ends of the harbor.

Indeed, the Queen did sail east the same day she received a raven telling of the fall of Braavos, further evidence of her part in a conspiracy to sack the city from within. (It should be noted that, while her death was part of the rationale for the Westerosi takeover of Braavos, sightings of Yara Greyjoy were reported in brothels and docks throughout the Free Cities for decades to come, and as far east as the Bay of Dragons and even Asshai. She was usually reported as drunk, in the company of a female lover, always preaching her hatred of the Wolf Queen of Westeros, how she had almost united two Free Cities against her, ranting of her determination to once again raise one last armada against her sworn enemy.) As for the Iron Throne, King Jon I of the North was summoned to Eddardton to guide the realm while Sansa I traveled to Braavos.

The Volantene mercenaries arrived before the Queen, but as the Iron Bank did not foresee the loss of both contesting Braavosi fleets by the time of their arrival, their confusion compounded by the fact that their enemy had changed from Pentosi to Westerosi. Lacking a naval component, the Volantene besiegers were unable to keep supplies from moving in or out of the city. Digging trenches south of Braavos along the narrow sea, they made one abortive attempt at feinting an attack upon the southwest gate, then storming the rocky beaches which offered a narrow path circumventing the city walls. Bombardment from the fleet offshore stymied the attackers, and the arrival of fresh men from Westeros along with the Queen herself portended doom for the besiegers. Moving inland and taking a position south of the sellswords, the Queen moved her armies eastward, occupying the only road leading south from the city after a small skirmish.

Positions secured within and without the city, the Queen's army clogged its way day by day northwards, its progress slow but impeccable, by way of the advancement of several lines of trenches dug ahead of each march north. With the Volantenes reduced to hiding out in the hills south of the city, a charge by Lords Arthur Hightower, husband to Queen Margaery I of the Reach, and Gendry Baratheon, the legitimized bastard of Robert I, succeeded in taking the last key hill which gave the Westerosi supremecy over the terrain, the surrender of the sellswords coming a day after.

Most of the gold had already been transported west by then, and the Queen herself supervised the transport of the remaining gold back to Westeros, to be distributed to her vassal lords, kings, and queens as she saw fit. Whether it was her intent or not, the appointment of Arthur Hightower as Lord Regent of Braavos and Pentos gave his wife leave to conduct openly the many affairs that would result in their estrangement years later upon his return.

Seeing with her own eyes the end of yet another successful war, Sansa I returned to Eddardton in time to conduct the trial of the bankers, whom she accused complicity in not just the Kinsmen Rebellion, but nearly every war in her realms since Robert's Rebellion. The young would be Sea Lord Tormo Frogar found himself charged for the crime of supporting a Targaryen pretender, if but for little more than one fortnight. Of those brought back for justice from Braavos, the sole survivor of the hangman, one haggard former Sea Lord, Markos Utaqoi retired from all public life, becoming a guest of House Blackwater in Dragonstone, where he died of old age less than two moons later, 'of old age', as claimed by Lord Bronn, the keeper of the castle.

Many more volumes can be written about the implications of this short but critical war to the history of both continents, whether it be the economic stability the war's spoils provided through nearly the entirety of Sansa I's reign, or the extended decades of war with the Free Cities after her death, and it is the opinion of this maester that one brief summary would not be enough to shoulder such complicated matters. It should be addressed, however, the whispers that the Queen won the war not just with mere guile, opportunism, or deceit, the latter if you subscribe to Old Braavosi partisans, but also supernatural forces in the form of her extended family, of whom many claim possessed powers of invisibility, premonition, as well as the ability to meld mind with animals or human beasts alike, depending on whom you asked.

Little is known of any role played by her brother Bran in Winterfell, but the conception of Aryanna Baratheon, the legitimized bastard daughter of Lord Gendry (whose wife, the widowed Lady Vinissa Mertyns, was known to be barren at the time of their marriage) suggests at least a temporary return to Westeros for the sister of the Queen, Princess Arya Stark, years before her eventual discovery of the Sandoran Isles of the Sunset Sea. Rumors abound of her supposed abilities, training as a Faceless assassin in the city of Braavos in her youth, but whatever role her more talented siblings did or did not play in the conflict should not take away from Sansa I's own meticulous execution of her war, whether through luck, conspiracy, or magic.

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**Notes:** And thus ends the historical narrative of this "story". If you managed to get through this, congratulations, you have more patience and forbearance than I. There will be one more chapter after this, an actual character POV.

Tormo Fregar is a canon character, considered to be the next Sealord of the city per the wiki. In this version of events, it appears he lost the last selection, but clearly found his way back into the spotlight of history, if briefly.


	3. Sansa

**Sansa**

What does a queen do when finding herself in a perpetually foul mood? When she returns from a war across the Narrow Sea, only to find her daughter Catelyn ill, her chambers covered with vomit and sheets soaked with sweat, nursemaids apparently helpless and useless at the same time, leaving little Rickon free reign to run through the Keep as the child saw fit, forcing his mother to wait hours after her arrival before they dragged him, robes lined with soot after crawling through the dungeons by himself for half a day? When she is greeted at the foot of the Red Keep by ravens reporting of delays of the last shipments of gold back to Eddardton, having to wait a whole day by the docks before she could proclaim the taking of the Iron Bank complete? When she returns to court only to find herself besieged by endless lords and ladies, palms all outstretched before her, many doing their best pretending, avoiding the subject of their share of the gold, others not even bothering with the guise? When she finds that her favorite breastplate, the same she donned the night against the dead, had been left alongside a whole crate of her belongings in Braavos? When her chefs, the best in the land, they tell her, greet her return with poorly cooked mutton and stew, when she finds her brother, while ruling the realm admirably in her absence, had served away all of her favorite Arbor vintage, leaving her with the less preferable Dornish wine, which she has to pretend to enjoy in front of Prince Martyn? When, ears aching and head pounding, she retreats to her chambers, hoping for a peaceful night with her husband, for her to lay her head upon his lap by the fire, and close her eyes and listen to his voice as he read her a book from their library, only to find him too inebriated from the celebrations to stand?

So she leaves her sleeping husband without a second glance, rides north in the morning, accompanied only by Brienne, though even her Queensguard's glummy silence seems to bother her incessantly on the short journey to the mostly unfinished foundations of Starkhall. Arriving that evening, the Queen reveled in the solitude inside one of the only finished sections of the future castle, collapsing onto the bed with an exhaustion as if she had not slept since sailing for Braavos several moons before, half expecting to be interrupted by ghosts in the empty palace, whether it be her family's, or the Dragon Queen's, or all the soldiers and smallfolks alike who had died in her growing list of wars, she did not know, or half care. Because if it was gratitude and adulation she was expecting on the sail back to Eddardton, it was gratitude and adulation she received, only to find that she truly wanted none of those things.

Her mind felt clearer after a day alone, and she woke already missing the playful sound of her childrens' voices. So it was relief she felt, hearing from Brienne that morning the news of Catelyn feeling better, and both children riding north to join her, alongside their father. Wandering the grounds, up and down the hills leading down to the sea, she purged from her mind all thoughts of politics, or war, of even her own family, reveling in just the sounds and smells and sights of the bay, and while it was the crack of the fire and the smell of the familiar stones and hallways of home she truly craved, Sansa I Stark of Winterfell allowed herself to enjoy the not unpleasant sensation of a warm sun basking through the light pink cloth covering her pale skin.

Walking up the grassy slope from the ocean, the crashing of the waves still ringing in her ears, she traced out the path where the steps would one day lead up to the castle and court which she could call her own, and her family's after her. The walls stood tall on the hillside, the only aspect of the structures fully complete, and walking through the opening of what would be called the Eddard Gate, one of five which would surround the inner palace of Starkhall, she saw a small man next to a large woman, and sighed unhappily.

"Not so happy to see me," Tyrion remarked, to which Brienne rolled her eyes.

"Your Grace, if you wish me to order him away..."

"Your Grace, I rode a whole day from King's Landing..."

"I was hoping for someone else," she answered curtly.

"Yes, your husband and children," Tyrion answered. "They'll be here within the hour. I rode ahead this morning in hopes that I could..."

"Gain a private audience with your Queen." She nodded at Brienne, who bowed and left to take her own walk by the small pond in what would be the rear of her castle. "Go ahead."

It was her family she thought of, though Tyrion stood before her now. And Winter, who protected her children and their father as fiercely now as she once protected her.

Rather than speak, they walked both towards the unfinished walls lining what would become the inner corridors and chambers of her future sanctum. The bells of Eddardton rang for a whole day marking her return, along with the remainder of the Iron Bank's gold, and she had declared a holiday in the city, a week's rest for all who had worked so hard to rebuild endlessly the last ten years, everything from the Keep to the septs to the butcher's shops and the rows and rows of new buildings making up what had once been Flea Bottom. As to Starkhall, she imagined its completion would be accelerated by the Iron Bank's gold.

If Winterfell was beyond her reach except for a few moons at a time, she could at least have one place to herself, the castle a monument to the memory of her family. The Red Keep she hated, even as she had no choice but to rebuild it, the remains of Maegor's Holdfast still serving as a seat of power for the kingdoms, the Keep's raising a symbol of the resurgence of the Throne's power. But perhaps, by the end of her reign, it would no longer be called the Red Keep anymore, considering she raised its new towers, lower and less numerous than before, with gray stone from nearby quarries, the two colors blending awkwardly, giving the castle the look of a clumsily layered cake.

_Let that fucking prick Aegon turn over in his grave at the sight of his beloved castle now._

"This trial of the bankers...," Tyrion started, "I assume you've already determined the sentence?"

Sansa nodded, her mind not really present with her Master of Law, recalling instead the strange and far away city she witnessed with the Titan's statue, purple direwolf banners draped triumphantly over its arms to greet her arrival. Then, a strange temple on an island, where Arya said she received her training. The doors shut, Arya said she did not expect them to open for her, not even their new Queen.

_"They don't care about this war, or the Iron Bank?"_

_"All offerings to the Many-Faced God. So long as you leave them be, they won't bother you."_

_"Not even to kill me?"_

_"The price to kill THE Queen? With the Iron Bank gone, who can pay that kind of price anymore, gold or otherwise?"_

_"Some comfort," she thought, looking upon the door, wondering what would happen were she to knock, were she to command them to let her enter, because her command was now the word of law on both sides of the Narrow Sea. "And the people of Braavos revere these Faceless men?"_

_"Death is seen differently in this land. To be feared...yet also respected."_

_"This religion...is more than a bit morbid...and more than a bit odd. But so's my sister, isn't she? I suppose forbidding their practices would be like turning my back upon my own sister."_

It was where she said goodbye to Arya once again, knowing her ship would be gone by the time she herself reached Eddardton. Despite all the war and death she sowed, these last few years had been made much more pleasant by her return, two sisters working together to conquer cities and take all the gold in the world, and Sansa knew she should be thankful for the time they had. But what if Arya did not return again, what if her journeys took her to lands even more dangerous than her last sail west?

"Many wish to see them burn," she said, the Queen herself among them. And she would light the pyre herself, these men who dined and drank from the gold they earned through the deaths of men like Robb and her parents, not to mention all the women and children the books would never remember. _Who died in your war._ "Hanging is enough mercy for them."

"How many more have to die," Tyrion asked. Did he sound like this, she wondered, when he was pleading with the Dragon Queen to spare King's Landing? "You have your gold, you have your empire across the Narrow Sea..."

"You know it was never about the conquest," she spat, annoyed at Tyrion's tone. Hadn't he originally been one of the champions of this war, who drew up the initial skeleton of their plans before new opportunities presented themselves? "Sparing these bankers will not bring back the dead."

"They were commoners," Tyrion said, his mind clearly focused on his own guilt, rather than the upcoming trial. Did he think she did not have a conscience, knowing the same facts as he? "The Targaryen Pretender drew his armies from the smallfolk...women...young boys."

She felt her own voice choking. "They made their choice to leave their shops and homes, to go fight for a stranger. No one summoned them, or forced them."

In her head she pictured her own children, her precious Rickon, hair thick and dark like his father's. Beautiful Catelyn, who had inherited her Tully hair, who would inherit Riverrun and her Tully name one day. Two had been enough, with war looming. Now, with peace and gold, perhaps it was time for more. Young as he was, Beryn made for a good father. _ And a good husband, the kind father would have picked for me, had he the chance. Except I picked him myself. _ And her Prince needed his own heir for Casterly Rock.

"We both know how easy it is," Tyrion said, his own thoughts distant, "to choose, to make decisions we come to regret afterwards." He sighed, looking around the empty walls and columns. "We could have timed the war differently. We chose to steer him towards a smallfolk army."

"Pentos needed to be strong, so that they could weaken Braavos enough for us to deliver the final blow." She bit her lip harshly, wondering if she drew blood. "Those could have been our men, drowning in their ships, dying in the thousands day after day to capture the Arsenal."

"Does it make a difference, what continent they were born in?"

Tyrion was right. It didn't. "What matters is the result. This is the last war I plan to fight. Millions will see their lives flourish because of what we did in Braavos. And Pentos, we freed the slaves, didn't we?"

"I don't care about the bankers," Tyrion admitted, his expression still pained. "They're rotten men, they've lived far better lives than any one of us. I won't shed tears for them, not even if you order them burnt."

"It's about me, isn't it?" She turned to face him, and his lack of response answered her question. "Is it your sister you see in me? Or the Dragon Queen?" She narrowed her eyes. "Or am I worse than both of them now?"

"No," he protested at first. "But yes. Maybe." Shaking his head, he looked around, clearly wishing he had brought his own wine with him. "It really doesn't matter whether these bankers die or not. I just need to know you can stop _yourself_. Now. Before it gets any worse."

She remembered the dying soldiers below the gates of the city, the day the Volantenes surrendered. The image of man with a hole in his stomach, a Northmen, hand still clutching a banner of the mermaid, gasping his last breaths. A Volantene man, gash so deep through his cheek that she could see the bone beneath. Both she brought the water to their mouths by her own hand, a small mercy in light of their tremendous suffering. _Sansa the Kind,_ they whispered below her, _Sansa the Merciful._ Yet she felt nearly nothing, little of the initial revulsion upon seeing her first battle, of men dying, skin split and twisted unnaturally, blood splattering in all the places it ought not splatter. She fed them water, and uttered soft words of prayer, because she knew what it meant for others to witness her acting. And while she understood that her acts helped make their dying less agonizing, she did not allow it upon her conscience as a balm, because she would not balance the death of thousands on her behalf against merely the quenching of thirst for a few dozen.

"What are you going to do," she asked coldly. "Will you resign, is that it? You have no home, no castle, except what the Crown gives you, on behalf of your service to the Crown. Where will you go, who will take you in?"

The ends of his hair, near his neck, were silver gray now, and even as she spoke, she regretted the words, the pathetic picture of a dying dwarf begging for coin on the side of a muddy road too much to bear, exaggeration as that may be in her mind.

"If I leave, I leave," he said after a pause. "Not because I disagree with you, Your Grace. But the day I do resign, will be the day I find that my words no longer hold meaning for the Queen they serve."

She closed her eyes and tried to brush past all the horrible pictures in her mind, so that she saw only her children. And her husband. Her beloved husband, he deserved that title in her mind, after six years of marriage, a simple man, devoted to her, seeking only to please her, and to love his children alongside their mother. What little happiness she enjoyed in this life, they call came from family, and before she herself had noticed, he had become as much a part of her family as Jon or Arya or Bran.

"Marion Lannister will be returning to Lannisport to tend to his wife and grandchildren," she said, her own voice apologetic. Ten years on the Throne, and two Hands. She missed one, and would miss them both come Autumn. "He was a good Hand, for the war. But come a long peace, and I will need a different kind of hand."

Her words to Tyrion had been truthful, words like conquering or empire did not bring her joy or happiness. They meant little to her, except for what they meant to the legacy of her family, those who came before her, and those who would come after. How ironic that her father's legacy, Robb's legacy, one which dated back to Bran the Builder himself, would be carried to its greatest heights through the annals of human memory by a little girl who had once cared for nothing but making pretty dresses to wear in front of pretty princes?

Tyrion Lannister cocked his head, startled by her abrupt change of tone. "Is...is that an offer, Your Grace?"

Turning sternly to him, she avoided the temptation to wag her finger in his face. "The bankers _will_ die, along with your beloved Prince Illyrio. They owe a debt to this land, and their blood will pay the price. If you wish, Lord Marion may resign after the executions, so that you may keep your own hands clean of their blood."

Her would be new Hand did not argue further. Ten years serving in her Small Council had obviously taught the dwarf that, while her mind could be swayed, once her decision was firmly made there was little point in any additional argument.

"You do realize who were the last two to ask me to serve as Hand? My father, and the Dragon Queen?"

Was this a reference to their brevity of life afterwards, or the fact that only the cruelest chose to seek his help in tempering their own cruelty? Did he mean to warn of himself as a bad omen, or was the warning directed at her, that she was trodding blindly down their path?

"I'll take care of myself better than they," she said coldly at first. In her mind, she pictured a stranger, hidden from sight, invisible, perhaps one of the gods themselves, observing the former sham husband and wife from afar, two broken people, standing amidst an unfinished palace that, from another standpoint, may resemble more wasted ruins of the past. "I'm sorry," she admitted, "my words were harsh, and you did not deserve them. I forget sometimes, that I'm not the only one who's suffered. And that I _have_ found some semblance of happiness since..."

Understanding her, Tyrion sighed, contemplating his own state of being. "You have. You deserve it, you really do. And perhaps I'm pushing you too hard, when you don't need it. I've seen my father, my sister...Daenerys. I saw what happened to them. And I need to remember that, similar as you all may be at one time or another, you're _not_ them."

She had come to mourn Jaime Lannister, same as Tyrion, but clearly that death cut him deeper, considering he'd known his own brother for longer than she'd even known Robb or her own parents. And the late Queen Cersei, the first woman to sit upon her Throne as a Queen Regnant, without whom her own unlikely reign could have never happened, she suspected Tyrion regretted her death far more than he let on, because family was still family, and she couldn't imagine what it must have been like to see them both burn before his own weary eyes, whatever grudges they bore each other to the bitter end.

"I wonder," she said, looking to change the subject already. "You should consider taking a wife, you know."

"I killed the last woman I love with my own hands," Tyrion said, almost if by rote, so that he could avoid feeling what lay behind his words.

"And I watched my last husband tortured and murdered by my own orders," Sansa recalled, unable to hide the fondness in her voice.

"Gods help that poor boy Beryn," Tyrion remarked with a smirk, blatantly turning the focus of the conversation back upon her.

"He's the last person who needs anyone pity him," Sansa replied, smirking herself. "Jon married, out of duty. I don't know how he truly feels about her, or the marriage...but I think he is happier today than he was before." She recalled watching the King in the North during the feast, trying to keep little Rickon, her heir and the light of her life, and little Grenn Stark, the blonde, wild haired and wild eyed heir to the North, from dirtying or bruising themselves too badly in front of all the inebriated lords and ladies gathered. "I'm happier than I ever expected I'd be, husband or not."

_"They'll think me a coward if I don't fight alongside them," her young husband had said, the morning of the last battle against the Volantenes._

_"I don't care," she said, her tone far too harsh to start before she even realized, as usual. "I have an entire realm, filled with millions of men who will die for me. You're not one of them, you're not supposed to die! I need you to live. I need you to be there for our children. For me!"_

As stung as Beryn was that she would hold him back from the battle, in that moment, the realization in his eyes, hearing from her own words the place he held in her heart, more than made up for his disappointment in not being able to ride into battle with his fellow lordlings. Not that either one of them did not suspect the truth already, but to hear it from her finally, as severe as the words sounded initially with the snap of her voice, did change their relationship in an irrefutable way, beyond the point of denial or indifference for her.

_I'm happily married_, she thought at the time, even as she coughed at the sight of hundreds of horses charging up the muddy hill at the ensuing storm of swords above, leaving behind for her a cloud of dust. _ Like mother and father. It's not just politics, or power, or a convenience, a man I'd least dread my duty with. I love my husband. I actually love my husband. I love my children. I'm happily married. I'll do anything to protect them. It's wonderful. It's terrifying. It's a new weakness, each and every one of them. _

_Am I so horrible that after six years of marriage, following four years of admiration from afar, and I still can't bring myself to say to him what he means to me?_

"Perhaps you're right," Tyrion answered, interrupting her. "Though I'd find it difficult at this point, trying to convince a nice young lady to love a dwarf of middle age, with nothing to his name except his consistently tenuous position beside the queen."

"Is this your way of asking me for a castle," Sansa asked, allowing a bit of humor to slip back into her voice.

"I don't ask, though I would not protest." He cast his gaze downwards, not ready for levity just yet. "It's my own guilt, as it always is, my own part in the planning of this. To hear of hundreds dying in the riots of Pentos, years before we were even ready for war...knowing it would only get worse, yet pressing ahead with the rest of the Small Council..."

"Do you think the crown has stolen from me my conscience," Sansa asked, genuinely wondering if the son of the man who had nearly destroyed her family now had the gall to think her a monster? "I sent ravens to Bran, then had ravens sent to _slavemasters_ in Tyrosh and Volantis, telling them where they could find and capture their own smallfolk, many of them escaped slaves. I saw with my own eyes the bodies in the Arsenal, men and boys who'd barely the coin to dress themselves properly, much less afford any sort of armor. Do you think I don't realize myself how..._utterly monstrous_ my war has been?"

Her own admission of guilt seemed to come as a relief for him. "We're all horrible, then. Perhaps it's because I've lived with this knowledge longer than you...and I truly don't want to live like this anymore. Not for a moment longer."

"The war is over," she thought, finding herself still angry at him. What right did he have to judge her, himself a copious sinner, upon repenting, deciding that he ought have the power to withhold others from the same sins? "We've done good things. The slaves in Pentos are free, at the very least, and if there are still slaves and suffering smallfolk in the other Free Cities, then that has always been the case for hundreds of years before this war. But the smallfolk in Pentos and Braavos will live better lives in the future, along with all of our people here in Westeros, because the Iron Bank will no longer wage its wars across any continent or kingdom ever again. And as for the rest of Essos, you said it yourself years ago, those slavemasters will find their grips loosened now that we control all the gold and commerce on both sides of the Narrow Sea."

"Lorath too."

She looked at him in confusion.

"They've pledged fealty to the Iron Throne, to continue engaging in our trade. The magisters set aside their power and swear to abide by the laws of the Crown."

"Good," she said plainly, feeling nothing upon learning of the acquisition of yet one more city to her domains. Dependent upon Braavos for most of its trade, they told her Lorath, the weakest of the Free Cities, was not likely to delay in seeking an agreement in order to avoid seeing its economic lifeblood threatened, though she suspected its magisters were eager also to avoid the fates of their counterparts in Pentos and Braavos...fearful that the insatiable beast across the Narrow Sea would one day cast her greedy eyes upon their small city. "I ask you to be my Hand now because I trust you'll guide the peace rightly, if only driven solely by your own guilty conscience."

"So that those who come after us need not suffer like those who lived in our time," Tyrion recited, echoes of a past conversation ringing through both their ears, "even if we ourselves were the cause of their suffering." He looked up, unsure, his judgment tempered by his own guilt. "Do you still believe that?"

Somewhere across the sea before her lay tangible proof of an empire which now rivaled Old Valyria itself, millions bending the knee to a family most had thought wholly destroyed a mere five and ten years ago. And scattered upon those shores, etched in her own memory, thousands of bodies, mangled, bloodied, young and old alike, many still lining the docks and embankments of the city, awaiting either burning or burial, on the day she set sail back to Eddardton on a ship filled with gold. She imagined not her own father smiling down upon her achievements with pride, but rather Arya's Many-Faced God.

"Doesn't matter whether I believe it or not," she answered finally. "What matters is that we can never admit to each other our own loss of faith, for the sake of all those we still wish to help."

Eyeing the distant shoreline south, she imagined hearing the gallop of horses, seeing the welcome faces of her family, their voices music to her ears as they drowned out the drumbeats of her last war, and the protests of her own shattered conscience.

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_Thus concludes Part 3 in this series. I'd expect the fourth and last story of this series, "At an End to All Seasons", a two parter with 3 short vignettes, to be posted within the next week._


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